And Once Again, The City is Safe
by Cricket and Bad Wolf
Summary: Gus dragged Shawn to a church service - little did they know they'd soon find themselves in the middle of a psychic murder mystery.
1. Chapter 1

Hey, its Bad Wolf, bringing you a Psych fic. This is new and interesting stuff! I actually wrote this as a short story about a guy named Eli who I based on Shawn, minus pretending to be psychic. But I modified it! It's better as a fic, I think. Enjoy. c:

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><p>The minister ruffled reverently through the dusty pages of his leatherbound text, keeping all of his small town attendees in rapture while Shawn Spencer dozed slightly under the warm light filtering through the stained glass. On finding the exact right verse, he opened it dramatically, then intoned it with much ceremony to a small chorus of "Amen!"s and "Praise him!"s. The minister's voice filled the sanctuary, bouncing off all the varnished wood that formed the church to deliver religion to the ears of the townies.<p>

It wasn't until he snapped the Bible shut for maximum effect that Shawn woke sharply. He glanced to his left to find his best friend glaring at him. He grinned sheepishly. Gus shook his head and mouthed some threats before turning back towards the sermon.

Shawn bowed his head for the parting prayer, battling in his head with the comments he longed to say, ones that could possibly win an internal bet by getting Gus to disrupt the service himself with laughter. Somehow, he managed to keep his mouth shut and pretend to pay attention through the prayer and parting comments. Something did catch his attention though, when the stately man finished the sermon.

"And before we part, please join us in the lobby for a bit of food and conversation, to celebrate the coming Christmas holiday."

As the minister ended the service and the twenty odd people started buzzing with conversations of enlightenment, Shawn's mind focused on one thing: free food!

"Shawn, you can't sleep in church!" Gus.

"Just did. You mean physically unable, or morally frowned on? Because I find myself breaking barriers."

Gus glared at him. Shawn steepled his fingers and nodded piously.

Gus paused a moment. "You're thinking about cookies right now, aren't you?"

"Aboslutely not!" Shawn sniffed. In truth he was thinking about brownies. He told Gus so.

Gus snorted. "Alright, fine. Let's go. I could do with some food."

The two were almost the last ones to leave the sanctuary - only a harried looking middle aged woman was behind them, trying to mop up a bit of spilled coffee, as they entered the similarly decorated lobby. This room was even more confined than the previous, so the smell of dust was almost unbearable to Shawn. The dark wood everywhere, coupled with the stained industrial carpet made for a very strange effect, but one that Shawn was able to ignore in the presence of brownies.

He crammed one of the little square in his mouth, grabbing two more, and just let the conversation wash over him. Gus networked in a corner of the group with the church choir while a knot of older women stood near Shawn, discussing someone's affair with someone else.

Ouch.

Shawn scarfed two more brownies while the women inadvertantly informed him that someone had found out about someone else, and that someone was in for quite a beating. Shawn was on his fourth brownie and the women, casting furitive glances towards the corner, on the other foul aspects of someone when it happened.

Shawn looked up upon hearing a very strange, almost choking sound. The shabby looking man who'd been sitting in front of Shawn during the service was in a bit of a clearing in the lobby, dazed and confused. He made the noise again, tried to take a step, and ended up stumbling forward. He opened and closed his mouth helplessly a few times, then fell into a little pile.

The room was silent for a moment. Everyone stared.

Shawn was the first to jump into action, stuffing the last of the brownie into his mouth then rushing over to the man and kneeling beside him. The rest of the room could only stir slightly, but Gus was only a moment behind him.

Shawn flipped the middle-aged man over. His eyes were shut peacefully, and his mouth open a little bit, like maybe he'd just had one drink too many. Shawn quickly checked his pulse and determined that such was not the case.

"He's dead," Shawn called out matter-of-factly, prizing the styrofoam cup from the man's hand.

Gasps filled the lobby. One man from the corner shouted, "I'll call the police!" Shawn looked up at Gus as he sniffed the cup, eyebrows raised.

"Roger Neil, insurance exec." Gus looked a bit frightened. "I knew him, Shawn! He fundraised with -" but Shawn cut him off with a snap of his fingers.

"Got it!" Now things were starting to get interesting!

Shawn stood and addressed the room at large. "Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Shawn Spencer, and I am the Santa Barbara Police Deparment's head consulting psychic. Also their only consulting psychic. This is my associate, Burton Guster, as in 'His name is Guster and he dances with the band' - "

"Shawn! A man is dead!"

"Oh. Yeah." He sighed. "Right. Anyway. One person in this room killed this poor man!" He indicated the man lying dead on the ground.

Shawn smiled. "And I know who it is."


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn closed his eyes tight and complied a short list in his brain, a list of things he knew and further his decided list of suspects. Once he'd scared up everything he knew, he opened his eyes to a lobby filled with horrified people. He dramatically placed two fingers to his temple.

"Marylin Dawson! Mistress of murder! Or maybe Laila Neil! Housewife of terror!" Everyone stared at Shawn like he was crazy, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. The two women he'd called out gasped and looked offended, but Shawn kept pointing people out. "How about Max Neil? 'Let's play catch, Dad! Catch a bullet!'" Shawn considered this for a moment. "Well, he was poisoned." He waved the styrofoam cup, dripping last remenants of a fateful cup of cocoa. "But close enough." The teenaged boy in question looked shocked.

Shawn turned to Laila Neil. "You knew your husband was having an affair, didn't you?"

The woman bit her lip, fighting back tears. "Twenty six years of marriage and - and - a secretary!" Laila let out a sob. Gus went up to the woman and offered some comfort. "But I would never kill him! I loved him!" The newly widowed Laila dissolved into full on tears.

"So its the wife!" Gus blurted out. Shawn gave him a look.

"The bad news is . . . well. That's pretty rough." Shawn cleared his throat. "But the good news is, you're innocent!"

While everyone's attention was on Laila, Shawn turned to Gus. "She was still in the sanctuary after we left. There's no way she could have poisoned Roger's drink."

Gus nodded. "My money's on the affair."

"Two bucks?"

"You're on."

They shook on it, then Shawn got back to business.

He turned to Marylin Dawson, and as he spoke, everyone in the lobby swung around with face her, like this was a sadistic low speed tennis game.

"Marylin. Well."

The blonde secretary quivered under the spotlight. All she could manage in reply was a little, "hmm?"

"Aww, come on. Twenty six years! He wasn't going to leave his wife for you!"

Marylin sniffed, tossing her pink scarf over her shoulder. "Never - in all my life -"

Shawn laughed. "Have you ever been accused of murder?" He put on a fake accent for the last bit. As with all his previous jokes, no one made a sound.

"Really? Come on, you guys - nevermind." Shawn sighed. "It wasn't you either."

He turned back to Gus. "Dumb bet! You were the one watching her the whole time she was in here!"

Gus made an irritated noise. "But Shawn. How'd you know who the affair was?"

"Did you know church ladies gossip a lot?" Shawn smiled. "That's two bucks, buddy. Like stealing lunch money from the scrawny, nerdy freshman we used to be."

"Speak for yourself."

"And the young Neil." Shawn went to cuff Max Neil, the insurance exec's son, on the shoulders, only thought better of it upon realizing that the twenty year old was at least a foot taller than him. "Yeah. You stand to inherit Dad's business, huh? Only it's falling apart?"

Max looked confused. Shawn gestured back to the body of the young man's father. The dead man's clothes looked as though they came from a thrift store. "Business must not be doing so hot."

Max shook his head. "No sir."

"Bet you think you could fix it up, huh?" Max said nothing.

"So it was the son!" said Gus, with finality.

"No, no, it wasn't him either." Shawn threw up his hands. Everyone in the room dissolved into confusion.

"Look at him. He's all tan. He has no intentions of taking a desk job," muttered Shawn.

"So, who was it?"

"Well, you know Roger. That means he must go to church every week. Which means the only person he'd ever tell about his affair would be -" Shawn smiled. "Well. Let's share with the class."

He raised his fingers to his temples again, squeezed his eyes shut, and shouted, "I'm getting a vision!"

The church-goers all turned to face him once again, in varying states of confusion, prayer, and agitation.

"It was -" Shawn pivoted on his heel, raising a finger to point at - "Pastor John."

Everyone in the lobby simulatenously made different noises of surprise and alarm.

"Roger Neil confessed his sin to you, Pastor." Shawn said, approaching the stately man. "Only he wouldn't correct it. So you fixed it for him."

The police burst in at this moment, and the whole twenty odd congregation burst into pandimonium. Shawn sauntered over to the cop at the head of the group. "Minister," he said, indicating Pastor John attempting to use the chaos to make his escape. The cop shouted at his blue clothed crew and tore after the minister.

Shawn sank back through the panicking crowds and leaned on a table next to Gus. "Perfect timing," he scoffed. "It's like you planned it."

Shawn snorted, then reached behind Gus and grabbed another brownie.


End file.
